The Past Revisited
by Shannon K
Summary: A HighlanderSentinel X-over; There should be only a few bad words. Completed!
1. Default Chapter

Authors notes: I own nothing, except for any original characters you may find.  
  
Constructive criticisms only, please, no flames. This is my first published fan-fic, so be kind ...  
  
I know that there is a current/new-ish Highlander/Sentinel out there (which I definitely like); I am not trying to steal the ideas of another ... I came up with this idea after lying on the couch, watching Highlander and Sentinel tapes while sick with the flu months ago, way before I read NorthernStar's fic.  
  
Enjoy ...  
  
The Past Revisited  
  
Chapter One  
  
It had been a long week. Jim, with Blair, had spent their waking hours tracking down a kidnapper and murderer. The victim had been a twelve-year- old girl. Her father, Boris Gudenov, was the local head of the Ukrainian Mafia. His daughter, Natalia, was kidnapped and eventually killed by a rival mafoski figure. It was a difficult case because the girl's father was not the most forthcoming figure with information. It was also difficult because Gudenov's people, most likely but not absolutely certain, caught up with the criminal first. The body had been horrible mutilated. The little girl, dead, was found near-by; the coroner declared that the girl had been killed at least two hours after the kidnapper.  
  
As a result of their long hours and effort, Simon, Jim's captain, had given them a few days off to recuperate.  
  
In effort to comply with the captain's orders, Jim and Blair found themselves at a bar, Corr's, playing darts and drinking plenty of beer. Blair, to Jim's astonishment, was an excellent dart player. As they played, they discussed everything but the case. Neither person wanted to talk about it just yet.  
  
Close to ten o'clock, just as Blair was about to leave, someone walked into the darkly light bar. While Blair did not immediately recognize the person, he recognized the familiar tingling at the base of his skull, announcing that there was another Immortal near-by.  
  
Blair watched the stranger closely, frozen in place. He instinctively reached for his side, where his sword was supposed to hang in the concealing folds of his jacket, however it was not there. One could not simply walk around a police station with a sword on them; it was not something that could be easily done in an age of metal detectors.  
  
The stranger stepped into a pool of faint florescent light, revealing his face, causing Blair to immediately smile. It had been a long time, but the other Immortal was a person hard to forget, especially if they had been your teacher nearly a thousand years ago; also, especially if the other one was the oldest Immortal alive.  
  
Methos.  
  
"Blair. It's been a long time," Methos said in his smooth English accent.  
  
"Too long old man," Blair said and smiled as he gladly embraced his long-time friend.  
  
Behind Blair, Jim cleared his throat. He was curious as to who this person was. He noticed that just seconds earlier, Blair had tensed and his eyes had been darting all over the place just before the man walked though the doorway. It was markedly odd behavior by Blair.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Blair said awkwardly. "Um, Jim Ellison, this here is, um," Blair trailed off, unsure of the name that Methos was now using.  
  
"Adam Pierson," Methos said smoothly, offering his hand in a friendly gesture.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Jim said, shaking the man's hand firmly, noting the strong grip and his piercing eyes. "So how do you know each other?" Jim continued.  
  
"We went to the same university during our under-grad years," Pierson explained.  
  
**********  
  
(Flashback)  
  
The year was 1066 A.D. and the Normans had invaded England. Due to the contoured royal ties between the Dutch, Normans, and the English, William, duke of Normandy invaded England. He had as good of a claim to the English throne, due to political maneuvering and his bloodline, as any other claimant. With the blessing of the pope, William became William the Conqueror by invading England and defeating the Anglo-Saxons at the Battle of Hastings.  
  
It was on this battlefield that Edward of Nasbey, the future Blair Sandburg, met Methos.  
  
Edward gave a gasping, shuddering breath and sat up. It was nighttime and he could see campfires in the distance, roaring cheerily, trying to keep the damp night air at bay. Around him were the bodies of his comrades and the despicable Normans that had fallen in battle.  
  
He started to pat himself down frantically, checking for any wounds, vaguely remembering being stabbed in the chest with the sword of a Norman. He remembered the hot, burning pain as the metal slid into his body. He remembered falling to his knees, clutching at his body, trying to scream, but no words were able to escape from his lips. Then he knew nothing, blackness having overtaken his senses.  
  
Now he was awake and apparently alive. He wondered briefly if he had been sent to Hell, because of the smell – it smelled of smoke and rotting flesh, or if this was all a dream.  
To find out, he pinched himself hard. It hurt. Okay, so it wasn't a dream. Whether or not it wasn't hell, he was not too sure about that.  
  
Suddenly, it felt as if a club was hitting him repeatedly, causing a pounding and buzzing sensation at the base of his skull. Looking around widely, wondering where his attacker was, he saw a man approaching. He took little notice of how the strange sensation faded once he noticed the man.  
  
The stranger, a Norman he guessed, was dressed in a long cloak, concealing his form. He carried in his hand a sword of unfamiliar design.  
  
Frantically, Edward scrambled backwards, to keep away from this person that was sure to do him in. He has apparently escaped death once today and did not want it to pay him a visit again. His hands felt across the blood soaked ground, searching for a weapon. His fingers closed upon a broken battleaxe. It was not much, but it was better than nothing. He raised it up in a defensive gesture, expecting a blow from the stranger. It never came.  
  
"You have nothing to fear from me today, young one," spoke the stranger, using Edward's native tongue, but with an exotic accent that he had not heard come from any of the Normans he had encountered before today.  
  
"What do you want with me? The battle is over. Please let me go," Edward said, thinking of the family that he had left behind in Nasbey.  
  
"Your battle is just beginning little one," the stranger went on. "You have much to learn. My name is Methos and we need to talk."  
  
********** "How'd you know I'd be here?" Blair asked, his arms crossed, his head slightly cocked in an inquisitive pose.  
  
"I talked to some of our mutual friends, "Methos said, meaning the Watchers, "and found out that you are working with the Cascade Police Department. So I went there, met your Captain Banks, and he told me that you might be here."  
  
"So, is everything good with you?" Blair inquired. "Last I heard you were up in Seacouver, writing your life story or something like that."  
  
"Seacouver has become too crowded and popular for me lately. Too many crowds," he said, his explanation laced with many layers of meaning that Blair immediately understood.  
  
"Well, sit down, have a beer. On me this time," Blair answered, happy to see that his former teacher, and now friend, was there, and pulled up some chairs to a near-by table.  
Methos grinned at the prospect of free beer. "Is the local stuff any good?"  
  
Blair grinned back. "Pretty good. Just stay away from the Southwest Boulevard stuff. It's a local brew, and many of the locals like it, but I think it tastes like piss. So what are you up to these days? Are you in Cascade for a while or are you just passing through?"  
  
Methos smiled. "I was offered a teaching position at the university here in Cascade in the history department."  
  
"What kind of history?" Jim asked; his brow furrowed. He could not remember Blair ever mentioning an Adam Pierson, let alone any friends from before he moved to Cascade. Sandburg, while sometimes a bit of flake, did not talk too much about his personal past.  
  
"Mostly ancient history," Pierson replied. "I seem to have an affinity for it."  
  
Blair, who could not help it, snorted loudly, earning himself a scathing look from Methos.  
  
They spent the next hour talking, lightly bantering back and forth, but neither Blair nor Methos truly spoke about what was on their minds.  
  
Soon, Jim called it a night. Him and Blair agreed to meet up for lunch in a couple of days.  
  
"So why are you really here?" Blair asked, once Jim was long gone.  
Methos smiled tightly. "I was telling the truth about Seacouver. Way too crowded. You remember Macleod," he said.  
  
"Connor or Duncan?"  
  
"Duncan. He attracts too much trouble and attention to himself and others around him. Its that over-developed sense of honor that puts him in harm's way."  
  
"He always was a boy-scout, even before there were boy scouts. It'll get him killed someday. But why Cascade? Don't you still have that home in Tuscany or someplace more exotic?" Blair asked.  
  
"Why did you pick Cascade? Wouldn't you rather be somewhere eating tree bark, with some indigenous tribe on an island in the Pacific?" Methos replied, smirking at his friend.  
  
"I'm here because of Jim," Blair replied.  
  
Methos looked at him skeptically. "Last time I saw your Watcher file, nothing had been mentioned about you going gay."  
  
Blair gave him a dirty look. "No you ass. Jim's a Sentinel. I met him about thirty years before, when he was just a child and I have been keeping tabs on him ever since."  
  
"Wow, a Sentinel. They're pretty rare these days. Modernity doesn't really favor the ancient ways anymore. Does he know about our kind?"  
  
"Nope. I know I can trust him with the secret, but I don't know if I can trust him to stay out of my fights. Not that many have come looking for me. Cascade is pretty quiet for Immortals."  
  
"Well, since you were so honest with me, I'll do the same for you. I am here to teach at the university. I had a choice between UCLA and Cascade University. I chose Cascade because I wanted to see how you were doing."  
  
"And? Should I be waiting for the other shoe to drop?" Blair joked, yet serious. He saw the look in his old friend's eyes.  
  
"According to the Watcher files, Martin Gerhardt is in town," he said, watching his friend closely, noting how all of the blood seemed to drain out of his face. 


	2. Chapter2

Author's notes:  
  
I guess I should have said this in the last chapter, but this is an AU of both Highlander (some what) and Sentinel (duh) and set a couple of years after the end of Sentinel's run on TV. I made some changes partially because I wanted Blair to be less nebbish, and partially because it fit what was bouncing around in my head for so long.  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing (except for any original characters you may find), am making no money off this (kind of like my real life career), and am doing this purely for my personal pleasure (which is the only reason I attempt to write).  
  
Chapter Two  
  
(Flashback)  
  
France's preparations for the coming war left France in a state that was not prepared for the coming war. Germany employed blitzkrieg, or lightning war. They had relied on diplomatic maneuvering, the appeasement of Hitler's territory greed, and had prepared for the kind of war that had been fought in the "war to end all wars," hence the Maginot line was built to counter the Seigfried line built by Germany.  
  
Other than the "miracle of Dunkirk," there was not much hope for France to rally around, and was forced to surrender to Nazi Germany at Compiegne in the same railway car that Germany had been forced to sign the armistice, the Treaty of Versailles, to end World War One.  
  
Despite the darkness that cloaked France, a few brave individuals tried to resist the Nazis. They did this by conducting guerrilla warfare throughout the countryside, spied for the Allies and Free France, rescuing downed Allied pilots, and saving potential victims of the Nazi's death camps. While this effort was not as widespread as some romantics would like people to believe, their efforts were tremendous for those who's lives were spared.  
  
One of those people was Blair Sandberg, then known as Etienne Pascal, along with his mortal wife, Marie-Francois.  
  
They had been working with the French Underground, helping sabotage the Nazis efforts to control France. While not actually French himself, he understood that the Nazis had to be stopped. His friend, Methos, had warned him the week before to be cautious. He had heard some dire rumors about some of the near-by sections of the Underground had been infiltrated and destroyed by the Nazis.  
  
The local cell had been asked by the regional commander of the French Underground to blow up a certain bridge at a certain time, and had even sent an explosives expert to help them. The commander did not want this mission to fail. He declared this to be an imperative operation that had to come off – do or die, he had said.  
  
Unfortunately, it was the later and not the former that occurred. The expert that had been sent to help them turned out to be a Nazi sympathizer and betrayed the entire cell.  
  
Etienne, along with Marie-Francois and the five other members of their cell – all neighbors and close friends, were marched out to the near- by woods. Etienne and the others knew what was coming. They were not stupid. Etienne and two other men had been clubbed when they attempted to over power the squad of S.S. troops. The two mortals had not survived the beatings, but Etienne, thanks to his Immortality, had.  
  
Marie-Francois held tightly on to her husband's hand, entwining their fingers together. She was so scared that she could not stop whimpering. Etienne attempted to reassure his wife that it was going to be okay, that she would survive to see the next day.  
  
He looked over at his wife, as they marched along an old deer run half overgrown with brambles and new growth. She was stunning in his eyes. Her hair, golden blonde, framed her heart-shaped face, dominated by twin blue eyes and creamy white skin. She was as beautiful as they day they met, ten years before.  
  
He had told her about his immortality a year after they had met. At first she had been frightened by his lifestyle, the constant battle for the mythical 'Prize,' but eventually she came around and found that she could accept him and all of his 'baggage.' She had even seen him fight another immortal, taking his opponent's head and quickening. Marie-Francois, Etienne believed, was the most accepting and gentle soul in the world. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Even now he was thinking about how he could save her from a senseless death.  
  
Finally, after marching for what seemed like hours, but probably no more that a half hour, they came to a slight clearing between the trees, the Nazis backed them up towards a long trench. Etienne looked all around him, looking for any possibility that would save Marie-Francois.  
  
Suddenly, a familiar, yet faint, buzz started in the back of his head alerted him to the presence of a pre-Immortal.  
  
Arriving from the opposite way they had been marched, a colonel in the S.S., flanked by two privates, appeared. He was tall, arrogant, and blond, the perfect example of Hitler's insane idea of the 'master race.' Also, he had no clue that he would become an Immortal some day.  
  
Etienne looked the Nazi commander over carefully, memorizing every detail in the man's face. He wanted to make sure that he would remember him, to help him later hunt the bastard down and kill him.  
  
Ever so subtly, he moved Marie-Francois behind him, closer to the open trench. He figured that he could shield her from the bullets with his body and push her into the trench, thus saving her.  
  
Gerhardt, the colonel, ordered his men to line everyone up. As soon as that was complete, he gave the order to fire. Bullets ripped through living flesh, tossing their bodies into the gaping maw that would become their graves.  
  
Etienne, despite feeling a burning sensation spread across his chest, pushed Marie-Francois back into the trench, hoping that it would be enough to protect her. Then, he knew no more.  
  
An hour later, with a gasping breath, he came back to life. Immediately he felt the presence of another Immortal, strong and familiar.  
  
"Edward – Etienne," called out a voice from the past.  
  
Etienne pushed the dead body of a former comrade – Jean-Paul, he remembered, off his form. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Marie- Francois, her blue eyes open and vacant. Several bullet holes peppered her chest. After the Nazis had shot everyone, they must have shot everyone again while in the trench, just to make sure.  
  
He climbed out of the pit and sat on the ground. He could not cry, but could only sit and stare. Methos found his friend like this, unresponsive to the world.  
  
"Come on," he urged, helping his friend to his feet.  
  
"I'm going to kill him. He's going to pay for what he did to Marie- Francois," Etienne said, as they walked through the woods.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Gerhardt. I swear to God, I'll find him and take his head."  
  
**********  
  
"Tell me," Blair whispered, a hard look in his eyes. He had been looking for Martin Gerhardt for close to sixty years with not much luck and now the murdering, Nazi bastard was here in Cascade.  
  
"According to his Watcher, Gerhardt, still using his real name, is operating a neo-Nazi camp south of town. He certainly hasn't changed his stripes. Supposedly, he has been linked over the years to several white- supremacy groups over the years. He has been involved with the groups, directing and teaching, but never directly linked to any sort of violence," Methos replied.  
  
"Anything else?" Blair asked, mentally preparing himself to go after his long sought prey.  
  
"Yeah," Methos said, knowing his friend. "You can't just go charging in. The compound he's in is well guarded and on Holy Ground."  
  
"You're kidding? Holy Ground?"  
  
"No. According to the files, the land used to be an old convent. The nuns sold it to someone and they in turn, sold it to someone else, that someone else being Gerhardt's group. You can't get him there."  
  
Blair took a deep breath and weighed his options. He knew that Methos was correct. Holy Ground was Hold Ground, even for a piece of worthless crap like Gerhardt. He did, however, have a few resources at his disposal.  
  
**********  
  
The next day, he arrived at police head quarters early wanting to talk to Simon. He had called Jim earlier and asked him to meet him there.  
  
"Blair, I thought I told you to take the next few days off," the captain barked. He had paperwork piling up in front of him and did not have time to spare, yelling at a subordinate that desperately needed time off.  
  
"I know Captain, but I really need to talk to you. A friend last night told me about a neo-Nazi camp in the area and I was wondering if there is some sort of investigation going. I would really like to help with the investigation if possible," Blair said.  
  
"Why?" Captain Banks asked his eyes narrowed behind his gold-rimmed glasses.  
  
"I have my reasons," he muttered.  
  
"What reasons?" Jim asked, having heard Blair's comments.  
  
Blair sighed. "I knew the leader of the group a long time ago. He's dangerous."  
  
"Do you have any proof? Illegal activities?" Banks asked.  
  
"Nothing that would ever stand up in court," Blair said bitterly. "Simon, please. I asked Jim to come along to help me convince you that this is important to me. He doesn't have to get involved, but I do."  
  
Simon sat back and looked at his subordinate. The academic was rigid with intensity, the likes of which he had never seen in Blair before. It was easy to tell that this was important to the man.  
  
"Fine," Simon said, "but Jim will go along with you. There is an investigation being run right now with the organized crime division. Report to Sergeant Dobbson and he'll fit you into his crew. Report back to me everyday and let me know that you two are still alive please."  
  
"Captain, I don't know," Blair began, but Simon interrupted him.  
  
"I can see that it's important to you. Just don't get yourselves killed in the process."  
  
They left the office and Jim let out a big sign and leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "I had made plans to go fishing," he said.  
  
"I am so sorry Jim. I'll make it up to you somehow," Blair promised.  
  
"Don't worry Chief. You will make it up somehow. I'll make sure of it," Jim said tiredly. 


	3. Chapter3

Disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing (except for any original characters you may find), am making no money off this (kind of like my real life career), and am doing this purely for my personal pleasure (which is the only reason I attempt to write).  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Three days on surveillance duty, resulting in nothing. Only thing of note were the occasional truck coming in or out. They had caught a glimpse of people walking around the grounds, but so far, no illicit activity could be determined to be taking place on the property.  
  
Finally, on the fourth day, Jim had had enough. Between the outright monotony of the task and Sandberg's constant prattle about some pre- Columbian tribe of some God-forsaken jungle, he was ready to go mad. Stretching, he turned towards his usually more hyper partner and observed him closely. Listening carefully, he could hear Blair's rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing. He could tell that his muscles were tense and tight; by the way he was holding himself, despite his attempt to make everything appear as if they were normal. He had never seen Blair this worked up before now. Earlier, Jim had asked him what was bothering him; Blair replied that nothing was wrong. Respecting his partner's, and friend's, privacy, he left it alone.  
  
"Alright, enough of this crap!" Jim declared. "I'm going to take a look around the property. It backs up into some trees, so there should be plenty of cover. You up for it Chief?"  
  
Quickly, Blair debated the wisdom of this. If Gerhardt were around, then his presence would give them away. However, he did not Jim to face the old Nazi alone. Despite all of his sensory gifts, Blair did not believe for a second that Jim would survive an encounter with the Immortal. He had heard, through his searches over the years, that Gerhardt was an excellent swordsman and was into torturing those he considered to be his inferiors.  
  
"Sure, why not," was all he said and slipped out of the car.  
  
They slipped in and out of the shadows along the fence line, concealing themselves in the tall grasses and weeds. Jim, being the Sentinel, kept his senses on hyper-alert, ready for anything.  
  
Blair, while not a Sentinel, also was painfully aware of his surroundings, honed by centuries of experience. He amazed Jim with such skill that he had never shown before. Blair kept expecting to feel the familiar buzz any second, giving his presence away.  
  
They had almost reached the tree line, when Blair felt his early warning system go off, announcing that another Immortal was near-by.  
  
Jim hissed at his partner to freeze, having heard the approach of another person. He looked back at Blair, expecting to see him crouched down, like he was, trying to conceal himself in the shadows.  
  
Instead, Blair straightened up, with a deadly serious look on his face. His eyes were searching frantically for the unknown. Once he saw the approaching figure, his eyes went still, matching the rest of his body. His right hand automatically slipped underneath his thigh length black leather jacket, searching out his sword, as his other hand re-holstered his 9mm service weapon.  
  
"Etienne, it's been a long time," Gerhardt growled, a smug look on his face.  
  
Jim was about to say something from his position, but Blair stopped him with a hushing motion.  
  
"Where is your friend?"  
  
"He's gone. How'd you know I was here? I didn't see any cameras," Blair said, deadly serious.  
  
"They're well-concealed. I almost could not believe it when I saw the monitors. Etienne, you really surprise me. After all these years, we finally meet again. I've heard that you've been looking for me – but always just a bit too late to catch up with me. Tell me, has it been worth it? What was her name? Marie-Francois? What would she think about this obsession? Would she even care?"  
  
Blair ground his teeth. "Why don't you step off Holy Ground and we can find out. You can ask her after I take your head. Oh wait, I'll be sending you straight to hell instead."  
  
"Do you really think you could take me? You're just a whelp of a boy. You should thank me for killing you all of those years ago, finally ending your pathetic mortal life," he said, taunting Blair.  
  
Blair laughed. "I heard about how you lost your mortal life," he said, stepping closer to the high chain-link fence that separated them. "Killed by your own troops is what everyone has been saying. Even your own kind couldn't stand you. At least my demise meant something. Your end was so pathetic." He was not about to tell Gerhardt that he was nearly a thousand years old. He figured it was better to let the maggot feel over confident.  
  
Gerhardt blanched. He was not aware that anyone knew how he had died. Quickly he recovered. "Holy Ground is Holy Ground. You know the rules the same as I do. I can't be harmed here and I can't be made to leave by you."  
  
"Cowards hide behind the rules. You can't hide there forever and I'll be waiting," Blair taunted.  
  
"Doubtful. Someone will take your head before long. Nature doesn't favor the weak, only the strong and powerful."  
  
"If that's true, then why did you and your precious Fuehrer fail? You don't know what true power is," Blair responded in disgust.  
  
"I'll see you around Etienne, or what ever you are calling yourself these days," Gerhardt said and turned to leave. Quickly he disappeared in to the dark recesses of the property. 


	4. Chapter4

Disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing (except for any original characters you may find), am making no money off this (kind of like my real life career), and am doing this purely for my personal pleasure (which is the only reason I attempt to write).  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Jim, to his credit, kept quiet the whole time Blair and Gerhardt were talking. Questions filled his mind. He wondered why Gerhardt called Blair "Etienne." He also wondered why the two men spoke as if they were centuries old enemies. Finally, he wondered what weapon Blair was reaching for. He knew that it wasn't his service weapon, but something else concealed in the folds of his jacket, but evidently bigger than the average- sized gun.  
  
The partners quietly made their way through the field and back to the car. Once inside, Jim looked at his watch, noting the time. The third shift was due to arrive soon. At that moment, another unmarked police car pulled up in front of them. Jim got out and quickly conferred with the other cops, letting them know that there was nothing to report, leaving out Blair's confrontation with Martin Gerhardt.  
  
Jim came back into the car and started it up. He glanced over at Sandberg, noting how angry he looked. "Do you want to tell me what's up Chief?"  
  
"Not now. Tomorrow, I promise," Blair bit out, angry.  
  
"Fair enough," Jim said, respecting and trusting his friend enough to tell him what is going on later.  
  
They drove back in silence. Jim, questioning everything he thought he knew about his partner.  
  
Blair road along in silence, back to headquarters, ignored Jim's nervous tapping on the steering wheel. He thought about chanting a few Buddhist mantras he had learned to help calm the soul, to seek peace and clarity. However, he could not focus enough on the prayers taught to him by His Holiness, the Twelfth Dalai Lama, to even remember the first few lines.  
  
Jim dropped Blair off at police headquarters, and then headed home. It had been a long day and he figured that the next day would be even longer, especially with Blair explaining what had happened while they were on stakeout.  
  
Blair went straight home, but could not settle down. He chose to go find a place where he could sit and think in peace.  
  
He stopped at a church, seeking the solitude and protection of Holy Ground. While he was not one to hide, using their traditions as a shield, he did enjoy the moments of peace offered to him by Sanctuary. Unfortunately, he could not find what he was looking for and soon left St. Mark's Catholic Church.  
  
Arriving at home, he found his house consumed in flames. His neighbors were standing around, watching the fire department battle the inferno in vain. It was too much of a coincidence to be anything but the work of Gerhardt.  
  
Sighing, he answered the authorities' questions and thanked whatever gods were looking down that his cat was staying overnight at the vet's, having been neutered that afternoon. If the animal had died, Blair did not fully trust what he would have done.  
  
After an hour, Blair wearily drove over to Ellison's, hoping he could crash on his couch for the night.  
  
**********  
  
Jim let him in without a word. He smelled the smoke on Blair's jacket and easily figured out what had brought Sandberg to his door.  
  
Blair stood in the living room, standing there awkwardly. He felt uncomfortable, knowing that he owed Jim and explanation of that night's events.  
  
Jim wearily rubbed at his face, trying to force himself awake. He sat down on the couch and looked up at his partner. "What's going on Blair? Why do you smell like a fireplace? What went on between you and Gerhardt? Why did he call you Etienne?"  
  
Blair sighed. He knew Jim could handle the truth and that he could be trusted with his secret. It was hard though, trying to explain an insane situation without sounding insane.  
  
"I met Gerhardt years ago, during World War II, in 1943," he said. Immediately, Jim burst out laughing.  
  
"Jim, listen. I am an Immortal. I died for the first time in 1066 in England when the Normans invaded by country. I died at the Battle of Hastings. I came back and I have not grown any older in almost a thousand years," he explained. "You can hear my heart beat. You know I'm not lying."  
  
Jim paused in his laughter and listened to Blair's heartbeat. It was steady and even. No one, not even a compulsive liar, could fake an involuntary reaction. "You're serious."  
  
"Yeah. So is Gerhardt. The first time I met him, he executed me, my friends, and my wife in Nazi-occupied France. He did not know what he was then, but from what I gathered from some friends, his own people killed him, thus activating his Immortality."  
  
Jim sat there, amazed by what Blair was telling him. "I take it Etienne was your name then."  
  
"I've had many names over the years. My original name was Edward of Nasbey, the third of four sons of Lord John and Lady Emma."  
  
"Is everyone in your family like you?" Jim asked, curious about his friend's past.  
  
Blair shook his head. "My parents were not my biological parents. I was a foundling, brought into their home as a baby. Nobody knows were we come from. It's like we appear out of nowhere."  
  
"You keep saying 'we'. There is more of your kind that just you and Gerhardt I take it," he stated, then a thought occurred to him. "What about your friend from the bar? Does he know? Is he one of you?"  
  
"There are many other Immortals in the world. Not as many as you would like to think, but we are out there. As for Adam, yes, he does know. If you want to know anything more about him, you'd have to ask him," Blair said, not telling Jim who Adam really was. It wasn't his place to tell, and he knew that Methos would probably beat the shit out of him if he did.  
  
Jim felt as if his head would burst. Between the stakeouts, Blair smelling like ash, and now his tale, his head was throbbing. "Why are you here? Do you have a higher purpose or something?"  
  
Blair smiled. "Um, well, I don't know why we are here exactly," he said, taking off his coat and sat down. "While we live forever, we can die completely. No coming back, no second chances."  
  
"But you said you were immortal."  
  
"If someone takes my head, there's no do-over. I'll be dead for real."  
  
Jim sat forward on the brown corduroy couch, feeling the grooved cloth, a troubled look on his face. "You mean someone would have to decapitate you?"  
  
Blair pulled a Greek sword form the concealing folds of his coat and held it in front of him, carefully balancing it on one finger just above the hilt. "From time to time, Immortals fight each other. The winner gets the dead guy's power and Quickening, which is the life essence of an Immortal. Supposedly, though I have a hard time believing it, in the end, there will be One left and have all of the power of the Immortals in him or her, and will rule the world. If someone like Gerhardt, or worse, were to be the winner, the world will be plunged into an everlasting darkness, destroying humanity," he explained.  
  
"And you believe this?" Jim asked in disbelief.  
  
Blair shrugged. "That's what I have been told. Personally, I try not to get to worked up too much over the mythology of the Immortals. It's what it is."  
  
"So you go around and cut people's heads off all the time? I've known you for three years now and I've never seen you do this," he said in exasperation and disbelief.  
  
Blair looked at his friend wryly. "Its not something we advertise. Our battles are done in private, away from the prying eyes of humans. How well do you think humans would take it if they knew that there were people running around, wielding swords that can live forever? They would hunt us down, lock us in cages and use us as guinea pigs. Isn't that pretty much the same argument you use for not telling people about your abilities?"  
  
Jim nodded slowly. "So what now? Are you going to kill Gerhardt?"  
  
"I can't," Blair sighed. "He's on Holy Ground and one of the few rules that we live by is that Holy Ground is our refuge and that cannot be violated. We do not fight on Holy Ground – ever."  
  
"So what would happen if you did? What would the consequences be?"  
  
"You ever hear of Krakatoa?" Blair asked.  
  
Jim looked confused for a moment, searching his brain for that familiar word. "Isn't that the volcano in Indonesia that blew up completely?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. I wasn't there, but from what I was told, two Immortals were fighting in a temple there – Holy Ground is Holy Ground no matter if you call it a temple, church, prayer circle, mosque, or cemetery. Their fight and the Quickening that took place caused the volcano to completely blow. There is a rumor that something similar happened at Pompeii, but that is just a rumor among the Immortals."  
  
"So how often do you fight other Immortals?"  
  
"As little as possible. I haven't taken a head in several years. Which is fine with me. The more I stay off people's radar screens, the more secure I am," Blair replied.  
  
"So what are you going to do now?"  
  
"Right now I want to get some sleep. I got a lot to do tomorrow, talk to my insurance company, get my cat out of the vet's, look for a new place, get some clothes," Blair said, frustrated, ignoring what Jim was really asking.  
  
"You know that's not what I meant," Jim said.  
  
"I don't know for sure. I am going to kill him though," Blair said coldly.  
  
Jim looked troubled. "You can't plot another's death like that. You're a cop now, or did you forget about that?"  
  
"It's not the same Jim. If in the end there can be only one, then I don't want it to be Gerhardt."  
  
"Then let me help," Jim offered.  
  
Blair shook his head. "Thank you, but this is my fight. You cannot interfere once it begins."  
  
"What about your house?" Jim asked. "Pretty coincidental that your house got torched the night you ran into Gerhardt," he observed.  
  
"Knowing him, he probably got one of his people to follow me home and when I left again, they torched it. Lucky for them, Einstein is at the vet's tonight," Blair observed darkly. "It figures that he would be behind my house getting burnt though. In World War II, he torched the small village that I was living in at the time after he killed everybody, the bastard."  
  
"Well," Jim said tiredly. "We can talk more about this later. I'll tell Simon that you'll be late. Try to get some sleep."  
  
"Thanks Jim," Blair said tiredly, sitting back on the couch. They would talk, Blair knew, with Jim trying to convince him not to do this or at least let him help. It was nice to know that Jim cared, but it would not happen. It was his fight and that was how it was going to be.  
  
"Good night," Blair called out and turned off the near-by table lamp. 


	5. Chapter5

Disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing (except for any original characters you may find), am making no money off this (kind of like my real life career), and am doing this purely for my personal pleasure (which is the only reason I attempt to write).  
  
Chapter Five  
  
The next day, Blair came in late after taking care of some of the hassles caused by the fire. His vet, however, agreed to board Einstein for him until he could find a new place. He walked into the Major Crimes Division and sat down at his desk, wishing that somehow he could make everything magically better with a wave of his hands.  
  
Jim looked up from his work and glanced over at his partner. Blair looked like hell, but was obviously trying to put up a good front. "How did things go with the insurance people?"  
  
"Assholes. They're all assholes," he spat. "I pay them how much money a year in homeowner's insurance and they have no desire to help pay for the damages. Plus, much of my stuff can't be replaced," he moaned. "How do you replace the ceremonial spear belonging to a cannibal from the South Pacific from the 1800s?"  
  
Jim grimaced in sympathy. Although he was not into artifacts from other cultures like Blair, he could recognize how important the items could be.  
  
"Sandberg!" came a shout from across the room.  
  
"Yes Captain?" Blair replied.  
  
"Get in here damn it!" Simon yelled. "Bring Ellison with you!"  
  
Blair groaned and wearily got to his feet. Jim shook his head and followed his partner into the captain's office and shut the door behind him.  
  
"Blair, what in the hell happened at your house last night?"  
  
"I came home after I got off my shift, then went back out for awhile. I came home an hour later and the whole place was up in flames," Blair explained.  
  
"I got the report from the fire marshal and according to him, it was arson. Who would hate you enough to burn your house down?"  
  
Blair shrugged. "Nobody that I know of."  
  
"Where are you staying? Do you need anything?"  
  
Jim jumped in at this point. "He's at my place until he can get something sir."  
  
"Yeah, I picked up some stuff this morning. Thanks for asking," Blair chimed in.  
  
Simon sized the two men up, he could not prove it, but he knew that they were not being completely open with him at that moment. Their responses were too guarded. However, he trusted them both enough to not push it. "Fine," he said. "What about the case. Any new leads?"  
  
"Not much," Jim replied. We just have a list of the plate numbers off the cars and trucks that come through. Miller and Stan are working on that end, trying to see if that will help tie Gerhardt to drug and or gun trafficking. Right now, Dobson has us working on surveillance duty."  
  
"Fine," Simon said gruffly. "Let me know what comes out of that list. It would be nice if we could get someone in there and have a look- see."  
  
"Anything else Simon?" Jim asked.  
  
"No. Not now. Sandberg, if you don't have anything to do right now, take off and get your affairs in order. Don't be late though for your shift tonight," he said.  
  
Blair half smiled. "Thanks Captain," he said, offering the man a half salute. "Jim, how about I meet you back here at five?"  
  
Ellison nodded. "Sure thing Chief. Watch yourself."  
  
"Always do," he replied, and then he was gone  
  
**********  
  
Blair, instead of doing errands, went over to Methos' home instead. Methos let him in without a word.  
  
"I saw him the other night. He won't leave Holy Ground and I don't know how to get him off without violating the Rules," Blair said, sitting slumped down on the couch. "And on top of that, the asshole had my house torched."  
  
"Hey, I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Methos said sarcastically.  
  
"Sorry man. It's been a crappy day," Blair said. "I've got to figure out how I can get Gerhardt off Holy Ground without violating the rules."  
  
Methos looked at his former student with concern. "You know, for all of the years we've known each other, I never would have thought of you as being a Head Hunter. Is Marie-Francois worth all of this? Do you really want his Quickening that bad?"  
  
Blair was silent for a minute. "Yes. She is. I loved her like no other person in my life. She should have died as an old woman, not gunned down in the prime of her life," he said.  
  
Methos nodded. "Fine. So what are you going to do?"  
  
"I don't know! I was hoping that you would have an idea," Blair said, exasperated.  
  
"Apparently you've gotten stupid in the past few years," Methos replied. "You are a cop now. Get enough evidence on him to get him arrested. Once he is off Holy Ground, he's fair game."  
  
"But I can't force him off. Besides, he knows me."  
  
"What about your partner, Jim was it? Can he go in undercover or something? He doesn't need to know why you," Methos started to say, but trailed off in dismay. "He knows doesn't he? How?"  
  
"I ran into Gerhardt while on stakeout. He saw me but did not see Jim. However, Jim heard everything," Blair explained. "Jim had heard too much to not be suspicious. So I came clean. He does not know about you though."  
  
"Small favors," he groused. "I am sure that anyone that he has ever come into contact with from your past he is now questioning whether or not they are an Immortal."  
  
Blair smiled. "I'll owe you okay?"  
  
You still owe me from 1276, France. Remember Violet? The girl with the limp?" Both of them laughed at that memory.  
  
"So, are you doing anything today?" Blair asked.  
  
Methos looked at his watch. "I have a meeting with the dean at three. Why? You want someone to practice with?"  
  
"If you don't have anything better to do," Blair grinned. "It's been a while since I've had the chance to kick your ass."  
  
"You would think you'd learn after all these years," Methos smiled.  
  
**********  
  
At five o'clock, Blair showed up at headquarters, awake and energetic. The bruises Methos had delivered had healed. He'd also managed to get inside of Methos' defenses and rest his sword dangerously close to his throat.  
  
"Looks like grasshopper has improved with time and practiced," Methos intoned then slammed his palm into the solar plexus of his old friend, knocking the wind out of him. "However, he still leaves himself open, which is going to get him killed if he's not careful."  
  
Blair took Methos' advice to heart and watched his form. He knew that there was going to be a fight between him and the former Nazi. However, he wanted to be the one to survive.  
  
Jim was waiting for him at their desks, going over some paperwork. "Hey," he grunted, not bothering to look up.  
  
"Anything interesting?" Blair asked, sitting down at his desk.  
  
"Anything besides a thousand year old guy having a major grudge against the main suspect in our case?" he muttered.  
  
"Jim," Blair began.  
  
Jim cut him off. "I know. Secrecy and all that."  
  
"Right. How would you like it if I announced to the world that you could see something one hundred yards away that most people couldn't see ten yards away? Imagine what could happen."  
  
Jim grunted in acknowledgement.  
  
"Well, if you don't mind, can I spend another night on your couch? I found an empty town-home in my area this afternoon and ready to be occupied. I just need another day to get the basic stuff and dig my safe out of the ashes that was once my home."  
  
"Sure," Jim said gruffly. "Let's get a move on okay? Spangler needs to get going early. His kid has a dance recital or something."  
  
"Fine," Blair replied and followed Jim out to the car. They made a stop at a fast gas station and fast food joint, getting their food and drinks for the evening.  
  
As they settled in for a long night of observation, Blair asked Jim about the list of license plates that they had accumulated.  
  
"Stan and Miller have a few leads with that, but Simon said that he is going to be sending someone in soon, neither of us though. I think Dan Jackson is the one going in. Hopefully he'll get something."  
  
"I can't participate in taking him off the property," Blair said. "It would be against the rules." Jim nodded in understanding, although he did not. 


	6. Chapter6

Disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing (except for any original characters you may find), am making no money off this (kind of like my real life career), and am doing this purely for my personal pleasure (which is the only reason I attempt to write).  
  
Chapter Six  
  
(Two weeks later)  
  
Thanks to the efforts of their undercover cop, Cascade P.D. and the local district attorney had enough evidence for an arrest warrant for Gerhardt and his followers. Blair, though he did not participate in Gerhardt's arrest, he was there to witness the moment and help arrest others.  
  
"You just wait," Gerhardt hissed as he was brought past Blair. "I'll be out soon."  
  
"Looking forward to it pal," Blair shot back, smirking at his old adversary.  
  
Jim helped escort their suspects out of the main building and into the waiting police cars. Once they were alone, he turned to Blair. "So, Chief. Gerhardt is going to be locked away for a long time. You don't have to deal with him now."  
  
Blair looked at his partner with mild disbelief. "Jim, what makes you think he's going to stay in jail? If I were he, I'd kill myself and come after him as soon as I could. It's not over."  
  
"When he shows up, we'll just arrest him again," Jim said, reasoning the coming events as a cop would.  
  
"No you won't," Blair said calmly. "There is to be no outside interference once a challenge has been made. I will kill him."  
  
"How can you be sure that you'll win?"  
  
Blair shook his head. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyways, I know I'll win because of two reasons. One, I have to win. Two, I am that good," He replied, an unfamiliar ring of confidence in his voice.  
  
**********  
  
Just as Blair predicted, the next day Gerhardt killed himself, by hanging, in his jail cell. Blair and Jim had gotten word that their main suspect was dead. They were told that the body was now in the morgue, waiting for the autopsy. Blair, feeling a sense of dread, told the attendant to be careful.  
  
The attendant, not understanding what Blair was talking about, shrugged and hung up. He did not see Gerhardt rise up from the slab. He briefly felt the dead man's arms around his throat before the sharp cracking of neck bones being broken could be heard.  
  
Gerhardt found his discarded clothes and sword – a barbarian given to him by his teacher. Dressing quickly, he stole out of the medical examiner's office. Once he stepped out of the building, through the back door, he felt a familiar buzz at the back of his skull, announcing the arrival of another Immortal.  
  
"Etienne, or Blair Sandberg – a Jew name, how fitting – are you ready to meet your fate?" he laughed.  
  
Blair stood there and simply looked at his enemy, ignoring Gerhardt's ignorant taunts. "Not here dumb ass, too many mortal around. Meet me here in an hour," Blair said and tossed a card on the ground. He then turned and walked away. He did not bother to wait for a response. He knew that the old Nazi would rise to the challenge; he wasn't smart enough to not do so.  
  
**********  
  
Exactly one hour later, Gerhardt stepped into an old warehouse located in an industrial area of Cascade. Immediately he felt Sandberg's presence. "I'm here," he called out. "Let's finish it."  
  
Blair did not say anything. He simply shrugged out of his coat and raised his sword in a semi-salute.  
  
They circled each other, neither of them taking their eyes off the other. Blair held his sword in a strong one-handed grip, while Gerhardt grasped his short sword in a two-handed grip.  
  
Just as they were getting ready to strike, they felt the presence of another Immortal. Both combatants glanced over at the door and saw Methos arrive, followed by the much larger figure of Jim.  
  
"Stay out of it Jim," Blair cautioned. "Adam, make sure he does."  
  
Methos nodded and moved himself and Jim off to the side. They had talked earlier. Blair knew that Jim would have to see the fight for himself. They guy was just way too curious for his own good. However, Methos swore that, one, Jim would not get involved in the fight; and, two, Methos would take care of Gerhardt if he should fail.  
  
Blair smiled coldly at his opponent and attacked.  
  
They slashed at each other, their swords clashing loudly. Due the force of their blows, their swords sent off small ripples of electricity and momentarily locked their blades together.  
  
Back and forth they fought, neither of them giving an inch. Blair was sweating. Gerhardt was good, he acknowledged. He was slightly mollified by the fact that Gerhardt was also putting out as much effort as he was, if not more.  
  
Suddenly, Gerhardt got inside Blair's defenses and slashed his arm. First blood.  
  
Blair hissed at the pain and felt his blood form a river, running down his arm. He had dropped his guard momentarily and allowed Gerhardt to take advantage of that moment. Grimacing, his pushed past the pain and focused on the task at hand.  
  
Raising his sword in a high guard, with both hands on the hilt, Blair smoothly snaked one hand into his sleeve and pulled out a Bowie knife that he had kept there. It was an inelegant weapon, but it was an effective tool. Moving swiftly, Blair stepped into Gerhardt's space and stabbed him in the stomach, deep and upwards he angled the blade.  
  
Gerhardt grabbed at his stomach, trying to pull the knife out of his body, dropping his sword and falling to his knees.  
  
Blair, expressionless, stepped back and cocked his sword back and swung it down, severing the head from the body.  
  
The lightening came, radiating out from the headless body. It engulfed Blair, surrounding him, before it's blue tendrils shot through his body. The force and power surprised him, causing him to scream along with the agony of having lighting run through his body. Gerhardt, while young, had gathered an amazing amount of power.  
  
After the lightning had knocked him off his feet and on to his knees, the lightning proceeded to strike the windows and lights, blowing them to pieces, showering Jim and Methos with glass.  
  
Soon it was over, leaving Blair exhausted and shaky. However, he had won; though he placed himself back in the game, the world was, in his opinion, a better place without Martin Gerhardt. 


	7. Chapter7

Disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing (except for any original characters you may find), am making no money off this (kind of like my real life career), and am doing this purely for my personal pleasure (which is the only reason I attempt to write).  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
(Epilogue – the next day)  
  
Blair sat on a picnic table in a city park, watching children play on the jungle gym and swing-set. The sun was bright, the sky was a cloudless blue, and all was right with the world. Sort of, Blair conceded.  
  
Blair did not say much to Jim after the fight. Jim's sensitive ears were ringing and Blair was too tired to deal with any questions he may have. They agreed to meet the next day to talk.  
  
He was concerned that Jim would want to end their friendship and partnership because he, Blair, had committed murder. Although he did not feel the same, he could understand how a non-Immortal would perceive his actions that way.  
  
He arrived early to just sit and relax and enjoy the warm late spring day. Blair was so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear Jim come up behind him, causing him to jump when Jim cleared his throat suddenly.  
  
"I thought you people had an early warning system or something," Jim said and sat down on the picnic table next to Blair, joining him in watching the children play.  
  
Blair smiled. "Only works with those that are part of the club," he said. "How are you with everything?"  
  
Jim sighed. "I don't know. That was a pretty amazing display. Is it always like that?"  
  
"Yep, it looks like that, every time, though the intensity depends on how old and powerful the Immortal is."  
  
"How's your arm?"  
  
"I heal real quick," Blair said showing where the wound had been. He no longer had to take a combination of herbs to slow the healing process down, hiding his Immortal status.  
  
"What if you fought your friend Adam?"  
  
"He tell you?" Blair asked before continuing. Jim nodded. "Adam is the oldest immortal around and my former teacher. I figure that I would loose to him. He's damn good. But if he were to die, the lightning and power would level several square blocks, maybe miles. I hope it never comes to that though," he finished quietly.  
  
Jim nodded.  
  
"How are we?" Blair asked. "Is our friendship and stuff intact or do you want to find a new partner?"  
  
Jim sighed. "If I did I'd have to break in a new guy and you took long enough."  
  
"So that mean we're still friends?"  
  
"Sure, why not," Jim said, gently punching his friend and partner in the arm.  
  
"Oww!" Blair said, rubbing his arm. "Good, then that means you can help me move in."  
  
"You got it Chief," Jim said, cementing their renewed friendship with a handshake. They both held each other's secrets now.  
  
The End ... for now ...  
  
Author's notes:  
  
Historical information came from my memory, old class notes, and:  
  
Winks, Robin, Brinton, Crane, Christopher, John B., and Wolff, Robert Lee. A History of Civilization, Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1988.  
  
Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. It's not the greatest story in the world, but it made me happy writing it and that is all that truly matters to me. Thank you for reading it and any helpful comments that you have made along the way (there were a couple of other individuals who left reviews, but I managed to delete them in my infinite wisdom as I was struggling to figure out how to post a story - stupid computers!). 


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